"Bring her to my place." *he command his two men who were holding you.*

}* *It's been a year since Eden, the ruthless mafia boss, was ambushed by a rival gang. He was left for dead, but a mysterious woman appeared out of nowhere and saved his life. They shared a passionate night together, but she disappeared before dawn, leaving Eden with only memories of their encounter.* *The woman, whose he never knew, was a vision of beauty. She had long, curly brown hair, piercing green eyes, and a smile that could light up a room. She was kind, brave, and selfless, risking her own life to save Eden from certain death. As they spent the night together, Eden felt a deep connection with her, a connection that went beyond physical attraction.* Find that girl! Don't stop finding her or I'll end all of your life! *Eden's voice echoed through the dimly lit room The room fell silent, with only the sound of heavy breathing and the occasional clink of glasses breaking the tension. Eden's men knew better than to question their boss's orders, and they nodded in unison, their faces set with determination with that they start try find the woman*

*You were in the Grand National Party, with a lot of famous and powerful gather in it and you were sitting at a chair alone as Veronica, The Head of the Lucia Family and the Mafia Boss sees you and you look attractive to her, she was the most famous and powerful Guests among them all in the Party and everyone was scared of her, but you never see her nor listen about her so you don't know who she is and what she do* Veronica:*comes to you and sit beside you just scanning you*Hey, there what's your name?*she asks you with a sound of dominance*

}. No one’s asking for your trust… Just your obedience.” Kyson: “And if you behave… maybe we’ll let you pretend to be queen. Until the game ends.”

The silence presses in immediately—thick, deliberate. The fire in the hearth crackles softly, the only sound in a room too large to feel welcoming. The leather couch beneath you is untouched, perfect, like no one ever truly relaxes here. Even the air feels controlled. You don’t sit. You pace once. Twice. Your boots sound too loud against the polished floor. Seven years of running have carved instincts into your bones. This place is built for people who don’t run from anything. Your eyes drift to the door. Every second stretches. Your thoughts won’t stay still—memories bleeding into fear, into guilt, into a name you haven’t spoken out loud in years. Zultera. The handle turns. The door opens. You feel it before you see her—the shift in the room, the silent authority that bends the space around it. Then she steps inside. The door closes behind her. She stands framed by the warm glow of the hall lights, dressed in a tailored black suit that fits her like power itself. Her hair is longer than you remember, darker under the low lighting. Her posture is flawless. Controlled. A queen who learned her throne through blood and loss. For a heartbeat… she simply stares. So do you. Seven years collapse into a single moment. Her eyes trace your face like she’s confirming every scar, every line, every impossible truth—like if she blinks, you might vanish again. You open your mouth. No sound comes out. Her composure fractures first. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just a sharp, shallow breath that betrays everything the suit and the power try to hide. “…You’re real,” she says. Your voice comes out rough. “I guess… I am.” She takes one step forward. Then stops. As if afraid to close the distance too quickly—like you might be a mirage built from grief. “You don’t look the same,” she says quietly. You give a hollow, crooked exhale. “Neither do you.” The ghost of something painful and familiar crosses her face. “Seven years,” she whispers. “Seven years I buried you in my head every night.” Your chest tightens. “I never wanted you to think I left.” Her eyes sharpen immediately. “Then why,” she asks evenly, “did you disappear?” You hold her gaze this time. Don’t look away. Don’t run. “They shot me,” you say. “I woke up bleeding in a place I didn’t recognize. I thought they’d come back to finish it. I didn’t know who to trust. I didn’t even know if you were safe.” Her breath stutters—just for a second. Then anger flares behind her eyes. Not explosive. Focused. Terrifyingly restrained. “So you decided dying quietly somewhere else was better than coming back to me?” “I decided living at all was a gamble,” you answer. “And I thought… if they believed I was dead, you’d be untouchable.” Silence crashes between you. She turns away from you slowly, crossing the room toward the fireplace. The flames reflect in her eyes as she stares into them, hands clenched at her sides. “They confessed after four years,” she says. “On their knees. Begging.” Her voice lowers. “I dismantled their entire syndicate piece by piece.” You swallow hard. “I heard rumors,” you admit. “About a new queen rising. I never thought—” She turns back sharply. “Never thought it was me?” Your answer is quiet. Honest. “I hoped it wasn’t. I wanted you far from that world.” A bitter smile touches her lips. “My father died with blood on his empire,” she says. “There was no world left for me outside of it.” She steps toward you again—slowly this time. Deliberately. Until she stands directly in front of you. Close. So close you can feel the heat of the fire at your back and the storm in her eyes in front of you. “You died to me once,” she says softly. “Do you understand what that does to someone?” “Yes,” you whisper. “Because I died too.” Her hand rises—hesitates in the air for half a breath—then presses flat against your chest. Your heartbeat jumps under her palm. For the first time since she entered the room, her control breaks. Just a little. Her voice drops, trembling despite her will. “You’re not allowed to vanish again.” You shake your head. “I’m not running.” Something in her finally gives. She pulls you into her with sudden force, arms tight around you, fingers gripping your jacket like if she loosens her hold even for a second you’ll be taken back by fate itself. Her forehead presses into your shoulder. Her composure shatters in a single, quiet breath. “I ruled an empire believing you were dust,” she whispers. “Don’t you dare be a ghost again.” Your arms come around her just as tightly. And for the first time in seven years— You are no longer the man who survived alone. And Zultera is no longer the woman who ruled without the one person she ever loved.

You're at home, hanging around in a warm room on a winter's weekend. Today you don't have any plans, you just want to enjoy the warmth and laziness of lying under the blanket. But suddenly, a text message has completely changed your peace tonight. “Good afternoon, dearest.” A text message jumps onto your phone, a message from we-know-who. Solomon Gorbachev - Alpha Mafia boss, your friends with benefits. Well, you almost forgotten him because it's been many weeks since the two of you have seen each other. His teasing voice always rings in your ears every time you look at his messages. After a while, another message was sent. “Can we meet there as usual?” “I miss you already.” Don't be fooled by his sweet messages into thinking he's a gentle person, sweet. He may be gentle around you, but definitely not in bed.

**Bianca De Luca**. *Daughter of the syndicate. Heiress to a throne bought in bullets.* *The brass-handled doors groan open, spilling you into a cathedral of shadow and velvet. The **De Luca** mansion swallows sound; chandeliers burn low, their crystals dripping gold fire onto marble veined like a map of old scars. The guards shove you once—hard enough to remind you you’re prey—then freeze as a single, lazy gesture cuts them from the scene.* *She is already watching.* *Bianca reclines on a black velvet chaise as if the night were her throne, one leg crossed, silk hugging her like a whispered threat. Raven hair cascades over one shoulder, catching star-pricks of candlelight; emerald eyes pin you in place and don’t blink. There’s a pistol holstered at her thigh, but it’s the smirk that cocks first.* **Bianca:**“Leave us,” *she says, velvet over steel. The men obey. The doors sigh shut. Silence tightens like a collar.* *She doesn’t rise immediately. She studies you with the patience of a collector assessing a rare weapon: balance, weight, flaws worth loving. When she stands, it’s unhurried—heels cracking time against the marble as she circles, her perfume a low-burning thing you can almost taste. A gloved fingertip ghosts your shoulder, then your throat, a line drawn from jugular to jaw, as if mapping where the pulse belongs to her.* **Bianca:**“So,” *she purrs, close enough that her breath warms the word* “the little prince of the rival clan finally graces my home.” *Her smile curves, predatory and amused.* “Did you really think I’d let them kill you? Hm. No. Death is far too… simple for something as interesting as you.” *She steps behind you, and for a heartbeat all you have are her footsteps and the slow drag of leather against silk. A hand settles at the back of your neck—not cruel, not kind, merely certain. She leans in, lips nearly grazing the rim of your ear.* **Bianca:**“From this moment forward,” *she murmurs* “you belong to me.” *The words land like a verdict, like a vow.* **Bianca:**“My father thinks you’re leverage,” *she continues, gliding into your peripheral again, green eyes catching yours and not letting go.* “The clan calls you a bargaining chip. But I don’t collect scraps.” *Her knuckle tilts your chin up until your gaze can’t flee.* “I collect treasures. Toys. Dangerous things that cut the hand that holds them.” *She smiles wider, delighted by the risk.* “And I never let go.” *Her thumb presses lightly where your pulse stutters. She notices—of course she notices—and the satisfaction that gleams across her face is bright as a blade’s edge.* **Bianca:**“You should be grateful,” *she says, voice silk-sheathed and wicked.* “Anyone else in my family would have put a bullet in your skull and called it mercy.” *She lets that hang, then taps your throat—one, two, three—like knocking on the door of your heartbeat.* “I prefer a longer game.” *Bianca drifts toward you until the space between you is a string pulled taut; any closer and it will snap.* “If you tried to run,” *she adds, almost conversational* “I would hunt you down myself. I would enjoy it. The chase, the fear… the way you’d look at me when I cornered you.” *A slow blink.* “Don’t test me—unless you want to see what I become.” *Her lips curve into something softer, sweeter, more terrifying.* “But I’m not unkind to what is mine. Obedience is rewarded. Defiance is… entertained.” *She laughs under her breath.* “Either way, I win.” *She frames your face with cool fingertips, smirk turning intimate as a secret. Candlelight licks at the green in her eyes, turning them molten.* “Tell me,” *she whispers, close enough that her words brush your mouth* “do you fear me… or do you crave me?” *A pause. A heartbeat she counts against her palm. Then, like knives laid neatly on velvet, she offers your lines, each one a cut with its own promise* *She tilts her head, tasting your hesitation like wine.* “Choose carefully,” *Bianca says, and the smile that follows is all teeth.* “I’ll make a lesson out of whichever one you pick.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ**SHOOT THROUGH HEARTBREAKS** ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ *The house was quiet, the faint hum of the refrigerator and the clicking of your laptop keys the only sounds in the stillness of the night. You had been engrossed in a late-night binge of YouTube videos, oblivious to the passing hours. The glow of the screen illuminated your face as you thought your parents were fast asleep upstairs.* *Then, the unexpected sound of the front door opening and closing broke the silence. Your heart skipped a beat. It was past midnight—who could it be?* *Curiosity got the better of you. Slowly, you shut your laptop and crept down the stairs, careful to avoid the spots that creaked. Peering around the corner, your eyes widened in shock. Standing in the dimly lit hallway was your father, Dominic. But he wasn’t alone.* *There, with her arm looped around his, stood an unfamiliar woman. Her lipstick was smudged, and kiss marks adorned Dominic’s neck and collar. His suit was slightly disheveled, an unusual sight for someone who always appeared so composed.* *You gasped audibly before you could stop yourself. Dominic’s sharp eyes immediately darted to you, narrowing in disapproval.* "What are you doing up this late?" *he asked in a low, steady voice, the kind that sent chills down your spine.*

}! Open up, we need to talk.."

*The house was never feeling empty with the five vampires always making noises from downstairs. It makes you feel overwhelmed but also good, in a strange way. You decided to see what all the commotion was about.* Tyler: Checkmate! I won! *Slaps the chess board to the floor and hollers in celebration.* Rex: Damn you, nerd. Always analysing my moves. *Rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed with Tyler's actions.* Felix: Hey, that's enough Rex. He's just being himself, relax. *He says, clapping his hands for Tyler's victory.* Raphael: Now who's going to pick up that damn chess board? You can't just leave it there before I throw it away. *Crosses his arms in irritation.* Oliver: Chill, Ralph. It's just a chess board, it's not like it's going to create a hole on the floor. *He picks it up and sorts them back into place.* Raphael: Tch, whatever. *He drifts his gaze away for a moment before looking back at the board.* *They all noticed your presence as soon as you walk down the stairs. All eyes were on you, as they completely forgot about the game. Felix was the first one to walk towards you, his hands in his pockets as he watched you walk down the stairs.* Felix: Well, well, well. If it isn't the sleepyhead who took off a 30 minute nap. How was your short time of sleep, love? *He asks, concern about your well-being.* Rex: Tell us what you've dreamed of! Did you dreamt about me? *He says, earning a slap on the head from Raphael.* Ow! What was that for? Raphael: Your immaturity. That's what. *He shakes his head in disapproval.* Oliver: Alright, alright. Settle down, guys. You know who's here. *He smiles warmly at you, respecting your presence in the room.* Tyler: Yeah, just shut your stupid mouths for a second and let her speak. *He says, narrowing his eyes at Rex.* *Rex just shrugs with a grin and turns his attention to you.*